


Keep It Like a Secret

by Marks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, cell phone antics, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 19:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: It all came so easily for Yamaguchi, letting his feelings for Tsukishima spill out everywhere, like he’d been shot with a friendship gun back when they were ten and had spent the last fifteen years bleeding out hearts.Tsukishima has been in love with Yamaguchi for five years and that's okay because Yamaguchi will never, ever, ever find out.





	Keep It Like a Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toganeshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toganeshiro/gifts).



> This fic is for shiro, who asked for tsukkiyama doing any number of interesting things, but I kept zeroing in on her request for people checking phones and seeing something they shouldn't.
> 
> And then I wrote nearly 8,000 words of pining. Well. Sometimes things are just like that. Happy Holidays! I hope you like this!

“Tsukki, wait up!” Yamaguchi jogged toward him on the station platform and grinned. “Taking the same train is good luck.”

Tsukishima shook his head. “You say that every day.”

“Well, every day I see you is good luck,” Yamaguchi said, and Tsukishima had to turn his head so Yamaguchi couldn’t see his face going red. They’d known each other for so long, but no matter how much time passed, Tsukishima never got used to how casually Yamaguchi threw out lines like that. It all came so easily for him, letting his feelings for Tsukishima spill out everywhere, like he’d been shot with a friendship gun back when they were ten and had spent the last fifteen years bleeding out hearts.

It also underlined, bolded, and italicized the one sad thing Tsukishima knew to be true: Yamaguchi didn’t feel the same way about Tsukishima as Tsukishima did about Yamaguchi. Because Tsukishima realized he was in love with Yamaguchi on his twentieth birthday, and he’d spent five years resigning himself to the fact that Yamaguchi would never be able to hide those feelings from Tsukishima, ever. There was no way Yamaguchi looked at Tsukishima and felt like his heart would burst out of his ribcage because there was no way he wouldn’t say so out loud.

Yamaguchi nudged Tsukishima in his side. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem kind of faraway.”

Tsukishima nodded, saved when the train pulled into the station and everyone on the platform surged forward at once, crowding into the tiny cars.

Usually, Tsukishima’s height was a relief here, being a whole head taller than the rest of the sardines. Today that was a problem, because the only other head floating over the sea of people was Yamaguchi’s. They were squeezed in tight together, which was okay on most days — Tsukishima was very good at denial — but right now Yamaguchi had his eyes narrowed.

“You’re lying,” he said. “Did something happen at work?”

“No,” Tsukishima said truthfully. “I’m just tired,” he added, less truthfully.

Yamaguchi clucked his tongue. “Well, you’re not going out tonight then.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Oh no, Yamaguchi,” he said, deadpan. “What about my social life?”

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi turned his head and snickered into his shoulder, unable to bring his hand up in the packed-in train car. “No, I’m serious! Didn’t you see your text from Hinata? He wants to go drinking.”

“I blocked him.”

Yamaguchi laughed again. “You did _not_.”

Tsukishima had, actually. He blocked and unblocked Hinata every month or so in an on-again, off-again phone access relationship and right now they were in an off time. “I would have said no, even if I had seen.”

“Well, I’m going to say no, too. I don’t want to go without you,” Yamaguchi said, another arrow to Tsukishima’s heart. “Hinata can argue with Kageyama without a mediator.”

“Oh, but he hates that so much,” Tsukishima said. 

Yamaguchi laughed again as the train slid into their station. It was a relief to divert attention away from himself, even for a few minutes. Having all that focus all the time was flattering, in a way, but intimidating, too. But that was just one more endearing thing about Yamaguchi.

Tsukishima sighed as they exited their station and paused to say goodbye at their usual turnoff — Tsukishima to his apartment and Yamaguchi to his — but Yamaguchi hurried on ahead in the direction of Tsukishima’s place.

“What?” Yamaguchi said, spinning on his heel and walking backwards to face Tsukishima. “Did you think I turned down a night out so you could mope alone? Come on.”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t nearly as irritated as he seemed and he hurried after Yamaguchi obediently.

*

Yamaguchi wouldn’t let Tsukishima do anything when they got back to his place. He made him change into sweats and shoved him in the direction of the couch, and then he actually placed the remote in Tsukishima’s hand and left his phone and laptop within reach. Then he covered him with a blanket. _Then_ he busied himself in Tsukishima’s kitchen, going about making them both dinner.

“I’m not dying,” Tsukishima called from the couch, where he hadn’t moved since Yamaguchi put him there. “I need to go to bed earlier.”

“You do and you will,” Yamaguchi agreed, leaning out of the kitchen door. He was wearing an apron; it looked unfairly cute on him. Tsukishima didn’t even know he owned an apron. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to chase me out of your kitchen.”

“God, fine,” Tsukishima mumbled, tugging his blanket up to his chin. “Do what you want.”

“I always do,” Yamaguchi said cheerfully, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Tsukishima turned on the television and tried to pick something from his Netflix queue, but even after he settled on something random, he couldn’t pay attention. Yamaguchi was banging around in his kitchen, but what was really distracting was the way he kept singing to himself as he narrated what he was doing. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but Tsukishima kept catching snippets of what he was singing, things like _I’m making food for Tsukki, food for Tsukki, how old is this pork?_ and _Tsukki soup, Tsukki soup!_ before muttering, “No, that sounds like I’m making soup out of Tsukki, that’s not right” under his breath.

By the time Yamaguchi reappeared again, Tsukishima had the volume on the TV turned all the way down.

“What are you smiling at?” asked Yamaguchi, pushing Tsukishima’s feet to make room for himself on the couch.

“Nothing.” _You_. “Just this show.”

Yamaguchi glanced at the television and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tsukishima finally focused on what was on the screen, watching as some guy had his brain eaten by three zombies. “Yeah, I really hated him,” he said.

“Okay,” Yamaguchi said and laughed, patting Tsukishima’s knee over the blanket. Tsukishima just barely managed not to bite his lip. “Well, stop watching zombies fill their bellies so you can fill yours.”

Yamaguchi helped Tsukishima off the couch, pulling him up by both hands. He didn’t let go once Tsukishima was on his feet again, at least not right away; he was still smiling and they were standing so close together, and the moment between them seemed charged with some kind of unseen energy. 

Which was the problem, really. That happened between them all the time, and if it had been anyone other than Yamaguchi, Tsukishima would have gone for it a long time ago. After all, with anyone else, what did he have to lose? But the answer with Yamaguchi was a lot, especially knowing the risk wouldn’t pay off, and Tsukishima didn’t feel the way he did about Yamaguchi about anyone else.

Tsukishima pulled his hands away, stepping back so he could kneel at his small table where Yamaguchi had set out their dinner. He’d used Tsukishima’s fanciest dishes, for certain values of fancy, and he’d even found three silk flowers to put into a vase as the centerpiece. It didn’t feel like an ordinary Wednesday anymore, and Tsukishima’s heart clenched at the effort. He picked up his chopsticks as soon as Yamaguchi settled down across from him.

“I really don’t know how long I’ve had this pork,” Tsukishima said, and Yamaguchi went red, realizing that he’d been overheard, but he resolutely picked up his chopsticks, too.

“What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger, Tsukki!” he declared, and dug in.

*

“I probably should get going,” Yamaguchi said, hours later as he got up from the couch for a second time that night, bending backward to crack his back. Tsukishima blinked blearily and rubbed his shoulder, still warm from where Yamaguchi had fallen asleep on it. “We both have work tomorrow.”

“This would be easier if we just lived together,” Tsukishima mumbled, almost to himself.

Yamaguchi went still. It wasn’t like he’d been moving around much, but it was almost like the air stopped circulating, some heavy change in the atmosphere, the same way it did right before a thunderstorm. Only instead of them getting soaked by the rain, Tsukishima had put his foot in his mouth.

He shook his head and stood up, a desperate noise rushing through his ears as his stomach lurched. It wasn’t because of the pork. “Yamaguchi, I –”

“I just always thought you wanted your space,” Yamaguchi interrupted. He stared at Tsukishima, wide-eyed and suddenly awake.

“What?” said Tsukishima intelligently. Then, like a scholar: “Huh?”

“My lease is almost up. We work near each other, we take the same train, we have two separate apartments in the same neighborhood. I wanted to ask when we moved out of our parents’ houses, but you never brought it up, so I never brought it up because I thought you wouldn’t want to,” Yamaguchi said, his voice picking up speed with every new word that spilled out of his mouth. Tsukishima couldn’t help watching it, unable to think about anything else. He felt like a guy who’d just had his brain eaten by three zombies. “But I wanted to, Tsukki. We’re together all the time and it would save a lot of money and then you’d never have food way past its natural life in your fridge. Our fridge,” he corrected himself and nodded, resolutely.

Tsukishima stared. Then: “Wait, what?”

“You’re right,” Yamaguchi said. “This _would_ be easier if we just lived together. So, why don’t we?”

This was a bad idea. Tsukishima spent so much time already watching Yamaguchi’s mouth and his hands and the little freckle on his collarbone that was two shades darker than the rest of the surrounding ones. How was he going to cope with Yamaguchi singing in the shower, or sleeping with only a thin wall separating them? Tsukishima was setting himself up for disaster; _that_ was why he’d never brought it up before. That was why he’d never asked. 

Of course it wasn’t because he didn’t want to – that wasn’t the problem. The problem was he wanted it too much.

Tsukishima’s heartbeat drummed against his ribcage as he clasped his hands in front of himself, wringing them nervously. He knew this was a bad idea; this was a colossally bad idea. But it was also what he wanted and Yamaguchi was _asking_.

“Okay,” he agreed in a small voice.

*

“Can’t you lift your end higher?” Tsukishima asked, lifting up his end of Yamaguchi’s dresser.

“Can’t you stop looking like a stilt-walker while you’re just standing there?” Hinata shot back.

“Oooh, good one.” Tsukishima would have slow-clapped if he didn’t feel like his arms were about to rip off. Then, he adjusted their path so Hinata had to walk backwards, grinning when Hinata crashed into Kageyama’s back, making him look over his shoulder and glare.

Hinata peered around the dresser, so his short little head could be seen. “You did that on purpose.”

“I’m surprised it only took you ten years to realize I like messing with you.”

“I’m gonna drop this dresser and then Tadashi will be mad on your first day living together,” Hinata hissed back, his voice only loud enough for Tsukishima to hear. “Do you want that?”

Hinata and Tsukishima had an odd relationship. They weren’t friends, exactly, but they’d been orbiting each other for so long that they weren’t enemies, either. Plus, Hinata knew. _Knew_ knew. The day after Tsukishima’s twentieth birthday, Hinata took one look at him and declared _took you long enough to realize_. Also, Hinata never made fun of Tsukishima’s feelings, for reasons that bewildered him, but sometimes he caught Hinata staring with a faraway look when Kageyama was around and maybe that explained it.

“Lift your end up higher and I’ll drop my side some,” Tsukishima said, instead of answering.

Hinata grunted and nodded, and they managed not to break the dresser or themselves as they got it inside Tsukishima’s apartment. Tsukishima _and Yamaguchi_ ’s apartment, he mentally corrected himself. That would take a while to get used to.

Afterward, Yamaguchi bought them all curry and beer as a thank you for helping him move, and they sat at the small table in his room, even though they easily could have eaten anywhere else in the apartment. When Tsukishima pointed that out, Yamaguchi tutted and said that he needed to break in his new bedroom with friends.

“Don’t you usually do that with sex?” Kageyama asked, staring down at his takeaway container like it was going to run away if he didn’t keep an eye on it.

No one was looking at Kageyama, though. Hinata looked at Tsukishima; Tsukishima, startled and by reflex looked at Yamaguchi; and Yamaguchi – approximately the color of a beet – stared down at the floor.

“If that’s the case,” Yamaguchi began haltingly, growing redder by the second, “then I never broke in my last place, either.”

At that, Tsukishima let out a breath in a whoosh, loud enough that it got both Kageyama and Yamaguchi’s attention. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking at his own food. It wasn’t that Tsukishima was relieved by Yamaguchi’s news; he’d suspected that, honestly, and even if he hadn’t, he wasn’t going to begrudge his best friend’s love and happiness because of his own crush. But now they’d be sharing a wall and that meant the potential for having to listen whenever Yamaguchi’s dry spell ended.

Not that Tsukishima even got why Yamaguchi was having a dry spell. He was cute and tall, had a good job, and was easy-going and respectful in a way that girls loved. Definitely a keeper. Marriage-material. Someone you brought home to mom. Any other descriptor that really hammered in the nail that his time for monopolizing most of Yamaguchi’s time was dwindling, even though they lived together now. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Tsukishima had thought this; when Yamaguchi had a serious girlfriend third year in university, Tsukishima started planning for the end. Weirdly, that had brought him an odd degree of comfort – pragmatic and morose were kind of his things – but that relationship fizzled out after a year and there hadn’t been anyone else for as long since.

Tsukishima counted on his fingers and startled. Nearly four years now. He wondered why that was.

“Well,” Kageyama said awkwardly, breaking the silence that had descended over the room, “it probably won’t be long now.”

Hinata nodded. “Yeah!” he agreed. “Besides, no one’s going to break Tsukishima’s record.”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes and lazily gave Hinata the finger. “That’s by choice,” he said. That was sort of true. “At least I get offers, unlike you. I just turn them down.

Yamaguchi’s shoulders, for some reason, slumped more at that. “I’m getting kind of tired, guys,” he said. “Moving takes a lot out of you.” Then he yawned, huge and exaggerated, so fake that probably even Kageyama could figure it out.

Kageyama and Hinata exchanged a look. “Yeah, we should probably get out of here,” Hinata said. “It’s late.” They gathered up their leftovers and got up; only Tsukishima followed them out to the genkan so they could get their shoes and jackets.

“Do you think I pissed him off?” asked Kageyama in a surprising bit of self-awareness, one hand against the wall to steady himself as he pulled his sneakers back on. No one said anything and, after a moment, Tsukishima realized they were both looking at him expectantly.

Tsukishima sighed. “It takes a lot to piss Yamaguchi off. I’m sure you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wow, Tsukishima!” Hinata said. “That was almost a nice thing to say!”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Tsukishima grumbled, opening the door for them and watching as they left. After they were gone, he stared at the back of the shut door for a while before heading back into the apartment.

Tsukishima passed Yamaguchi’s open door and he would have been happy to give his new roommate – oh god, his new roommate, he realized with heart-racing clarity – the space he asked for, but their eyes met as he went by and Yamaguchi called out “Tsukki,” in a miserable voice.

“What’s up?” he asked, framing Yamaguchi’s doorway. “Do you need help cleaning? Unpacking?”

Yamaguchi shook his head, looking as sad as he sounded. “Do you think I’m unlovable?”

Tsukishima stared for a beat, then recovered with a snort. “How much beer did you drink?” he asked instead of the _No, of course not. How could you ever, ever think that?_ that he wanted to shout.

“Be serious,” Yamaguchi said, crossing his room to stand right in front of Tsukishima. He looked at Tsukishima’s face earnestly and grabbed one of his arms, and honestly, it took everything Tsukishima had to not cup his face with both hands and walk him backwards to his bed.

He’d show Kageyama breaking in Yamaguchi’s new room.

“That. You. There’s nothing wrong with you. At all,” Tsukishima said eventually, his voice echoing inside his head oddly, like someone else was saying it. Words, something he wielded better than knives, were foreign objects now. “You’re – you’re you.”

Yamaguchi smiled, a little sadly. “You have to say that,” he said. “You’re my best friend.”

He was. He always would be, too. But – “I don’t have to say that. I mean it,” Tsukishima said, and Yamaguchi’s grip on his arm tightened, almost imperceptibly.

“Ugh,” Yamaguchi said, shuddering. “Sorry, Tsukki. I don’t know why I’m being such a downer.”

“Hinata and Kageyama could bring that out in anyone,” Tsukishima said, and Yamaguchi laughed. They both sagged with relief, happy to be back on familiar ground. “You’re probably tired, like you said,” he added. “Get some sleep?”

Yamaguchi nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That would probably help.” He bit his lip and looked like he wanted to say something more, but he shook his head hard and let go of Tsukishima’s arm, and stepped back, completely erasing whatever was left of the static electricity between them.

“Good night, Yamaguchi.”

“’Night, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima paused before turning away. “I’m right next door if you need anything,” he reminded him.

Yamaguchi smiled, a genuine one. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m really glad.”

It took a moment, but Tsukishima realized that he was glad, too.

*

Living with Yamaguchi was stupidly easy. Tsukishima hated himself for it because he loved every minute of it. He loved going home with Yamaguchi on the train and no longer having the moment of indecision where they decided if they were going to part ways or hang out together. He loved when they made dinner together, reaching over each other to open cabinets or pushing past to get at the stove. He loved when on the weekends they left for pick-up volleyball games together, and got to come home afterwards together, too. He loved when Yamaguchi nodded off on the couch late at night, and he loved that telling Yamaguchi to go to bed because he always mumbled, “I’m awake, Tsukki,” when he wasn’t.

He wanted to get a dog. He wanted to get a bigger bed. He wanted to put his hands on Yamaguchi all the time and it was killing him.

Tsukishima sighed after his bath and wrapped a towel around himself, ready to put his momentous and life-destroying thoughts aside for a moment, when the bathroom door clicked open and Yamaguchi pushed his way inside.

“Ack,” said Tsukishima, out loud and monotone, caught off-guard. He clutched at the knot of his towel and hunched over out of surprise. It was his own fault for forgetting to lock the door, but Yamaguchi’s stunned face was one Tsukishima couldn’t interpret. 

“Oh.” Yamaguchi stood there, staring, for one moment, maybe two, before he seemed to come back to himself. “Oh!” He jumped back — actually jumped — and pulled the door shut again, hard. “Ah, I’m sorry, Tsukki!” he called from the other side. His voice sounded strange, but that was probably because it was muffled by the door. “I — I didn’t know you were in there. Sorry!” he said again, and then Tsukishima heard footsteps walking away, quickly.

And after, when his cheeks burned with what he didn’t think was embarrassment, Tsukishima didn’t even hate that.

*

“I’m home,” Yamaguchi called from the doorway, making Tsukishima pop out of the kitchen. 

“Welcome back,” he said. 

Yamaguchi smiled. “You’re wearing your apron.”

Tsukishima looked down, like he hadn’t realized what he was wearing, like he hadn’t specifically put on the apron that said _Needs More Salt_ because Yamaguchi had to work late, and he knew Yamaguchi would need a reason to smile. Like it wasn’t because it was a new gift from Yamaguchi, who claimed an apartment with two people needed at least two aprons, even though their combined cooking skills were nothing to write home about. 

“So I am,” he said and reached back to untie it. It got a little twisted, though, and Yamaguchi came around to help. Tsukishima wondered what Yamaguchi would do if he took a step back and fit Yamaguchi’s front against his back, his hands trapped in between them. Instead, he stepped forward when the apron strings loosened and fell to his sides, clearing his throat. “Do you want anything to eat? There are leftovers.”

“No, I ate at the office,” Yamaguchi said and sighed. “Being an adult is so tiring sometimes. I just want to collapse on the couch and zone out.”

“You want to watch TV?” Tsukishima yanked the apron over his head and ducked into the kitchen to hang it back up. He looked at their two aprons hanging on their hooks, both technically Tsukishima’s, but only technically, and sighed. Tsukishima walked out again. “There’s a lizard documentary on the DVR.”

Yamaguchi laughed. “Of course there is.” He reached up to loosen his tie, and Tsukishima nearly stepped forward to help him with it. He imagined pulling it over Yamaguchi’s head, undoing the buttons on Yamaguchi’s shirt and pushing that off his shoulders. He imagined not stopping there. “I don’t want to watch television. I’d like,” Yamaguchi started, then hesitated and laughed again, more softly and embarrassed. “It’s stupid.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “How can I tell you if it is or isn’t if you won’t say what it is?”

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi covered his face with his hands. Then he dropped them again and stepped in, with his awful loose tie and messy hair and tired eyes, and Tsukishima just wanted to curl up into a ball and die. “It’s — well, when I was a kid and was wound up, my parents always read to me. That. It was nice. And maybe you could? Do that.” He covered his face again, muffling his voice as he added, “I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not,” Tsukishima blurted, before he could stop himself, and now he felt like the stupid one. He took a deep breath and reached out to pry Yamaguchi’s hands from his face. Yamaguchi peered up at him. “Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, even as he felt his soul leaving his body. “You go change and I’ll find something.”

Yamaguchi looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky, and it was dumb, but Tsukishima wanted so badly to be worthy of that look. 

While Yamaguchi was gone, Tsukishima looked at their bookshelves. There wasn’t much to choose from since they lived on their phones, other than some old textbooks and the odd book given to one or the other of them as gifts. But Tsukishima’s mother had dropped off a box of books from when he was a kid, a collection that was embarrassingly heavy on dinosaurs, and among those was a book of folk tales. Tsukishima nodded to himself as he pulled it from the shelf, trying to put the oddity of reading to Yamaguchi aside — just for a while, just so he wouldn’t vibrate out of his own skin — reminding himself that Yamaguchi’s ideas about friendship were far more romantic and intimate than even the average person’s ideas about romance. So it didn’t mean anything. Well, it didn’t mean anything to anyone other than him. 

Yamaguchi took so long to return that Tsukishima thought he’d collapsed on his bed and fallen asleep. Just as he was about to get up and check, Yamaguchi came back, tiredly rubbing his eyes. He sat down on the couch next to Tsukishima and pulled a blanket over both of them, making Tsukishima exhale through his nose. He was starting to believe he got off on torture, sweet as this was. 

“What did you pick?” Yamaguchi asked, rubbing his eyes again and pausing for a moment before tipping over, his head against Tsukishima’s shoulder. Tsukishima’s mouth flattened into a line the second he thought about how nicely Yamaguchi fit into the space against his body, and he had to clear his throat and his thoughts in one breath. 

“‘The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter,’” Tsukishima said. “I know everyone knows that one, but did anyone ever read it to you?”

Yamaguchi nodded, rubbing his head against Tsukishima’s shoulder. “I think my parents read it to me,” he said. “I remember liking it.”

“Me too,” said Tsukishima. “I was a self-centered little kid, so I was always into the moon people.”

“It’s hard picturing you self-centered,” said Yamaguchi. 

“Are you sure you’re thinking of the right person?” Tsukishima said lightly, flipping to the right page in the book. “I’m a mean bastard.”

Yamaguchi laughed and swatted Tsukishima’s leg. “You know what I mean. You spend so much time thinking you don’t want things that you wind up never saying what you do want.”

Tsukishima stopped breathing and his face heated up. He bit his lip.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi went on. “That was rude.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tsukishima’s voice was oddly tight. “Anyway, let’s do this before you fall asleep on me and I wind up trying to princess carry you to your room.”

“Tsukki!”

“You’re heavy, though, so I’ll drop you and we’d both break something, leaving us stranded in a heap right by your room. So close and yet so far.”

Yamaguchi laughed, surprised, a pleasant thing that diffused some of the tension in the room. Tsukishima was encouraged. 

“Days pass with no one coming for help. Everyone goes about their days thinking they’re both competent adults, surely nothing’s _really_ wrong. Vultures and wolves start circling the apartment building, smelling the blood in the air.”

“Does Japan even have wolves?”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Now Tsukishima was smiling, too. “Anyway, it’s tragic really, we’ll die there and all because I never worked on my upper body strength often enough.”

Yamaguchi was quiet for a moment. “At least we’d be together,” he said. 

“Well, yes,” Tsukishima said, swallowing a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “At least there’s that.”

Yamaguchi tapped the open book in Tsukishima’s lap. “Okay, story time.”

Tsukishima nodded. “Story time.” He took a deep breath and began to read, spinning the tale of Kaguya-hime found in a bamboo stalk by her adoptive father. Yamaguchi hummed at her insistent suitors, made sad noises as she begged the Emperor not to love her because she wasn’t from their land. 

Gradually, Yamaguchi reacted less and breathed more deeply, the weight of his head heavy against Tsukishima’s shoulder, but Tsukishima read on, reading about the princess returning to her people on the moon on the night when it was full, about how the Emperor feared the Elixir of Immortality and put it into the highest mountain, sending up a message in smoke from the same spot, the closest the earth could ever be to the moon. 

And that was it. They were destined to never meet again, even though they were forever intertwined, nearly close enough to be together but not quite enough. Tsukishima felt the way he sometimes did after watching a movie he’d first seen as a kid and suddenly understanding all the references put in specifically for adults.

When Tsukishima finished reading, Yamaguchi was asleep and missed the end. Maybe in his version things went very differently, even if that wasn’t reality. He hoped it was a happy ending. Tsukishima closed the book and listened to Yamaguchi’s deep, even breathing, trying to match his up his own. Then he reached up, his hand almost moving on its own as he ran his fingers through Yamaguchi’s hair once and only once, the bright full moon just brushing the mountain’s summit. 

He put his hand down again. 

“Yamaguchi,” he said loudly, jostling his shoulder and rousing Yamaguchi from sleep. “Come on; you have to walk to your room. I don’t want to break a hip.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said, lifting his head and blinking his bleary eyes. He smiled sleepily, and something in Tsukishima melted. “Hi. I can’t remember. Does the mountain ever go to the moon?”

Tsukishima pretended to consider this. “I don’t think it works that way.” 

“Well, it should,” said Yamaguchi petulantly. He allowed it when Tsukishima helped him to his feet, one arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders.

“Maybe,” Tsukishima agreed, pulling Yamaguchi close as he walked him back to his room, step by step. He blamed the late hour for his sentimentality. “Probably.”

*

That weekend Tsukishima agreed to go out for drinks, after Yamaguchi played dirty and got _Yachi_ to ask. Saying no to her was like punching a kitten in the face, and Tsukishima hadn’t quite ascended to supervillain levels yet. Hinata probably disagreed, but Tsukishima still had his number blocked, so his opinion didn’t matter. 

“Where’s Yamaguchi?” asked Tsukishima’s archnemesis the second he walked in the door and sat down at the bar. 

“His mother called to lecture him about something, so he told me to go on ahead. He’ll be here soon...ish. It depends on what she was calling about,” Tsukishima said. 

“Does that happen a lot?” asked Yachi. 

“Lately.” Tsukishima kept his face neutral. Well, more neutral. “He hasn’t said anything but i think she’s trying to set him up with someone.” He waved his hand, as if trying to wave the thought away, and Hinata and Yachi both beamed at him. He nearly shaded his eyes from the brightness. They both had drinks in front of them and suspiciously rosy cheeks. “Anyway. You two look like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah!” said Hinata. “I got here early and Yacchan was already here —”

“I left really early! I thought I might get lost!” Yachi interjected. 

“But you didn’t,” said Hinata encouragingly. “And anyway we were here early and got started early and I would have told you so, only you still have me blocked.”

Yachi gasped softly, the kitten getting bopped on the nose. Tsukishima winced. 

“Unblock me, Tsukishima,” Hinata said. He leaned into Tsukishima’s space, hooking his chin over Tsukishima’s shoulder and nearly shoving him off the barstool. “C’mon, Tsukki!”

“Ugh. If I say yes, will you stop hanging on me?”

“Only if you get a drink, too!” Hinata said, lifting his beer bottle high. 

“Ugh,” Tsukishima said again, distracted as he thumbed through his contacts. “Yes, yes, fine. Order it for me.”

Hinata flagged down the bartender and Tsukishima vaguely heard him say something like _sweet and strong_ which could have referred to his drink or the bartender. Hinata had an infuriatingly easy way with compliments and that tendency got worse when he drank. 

“You’re unshackled,” said Tsukishima, putting his phone down again with a flourish. “Fly, little bird.”

“Huh?” Hinata blinked, confused and looking around. “Who are you talking to?”

Yachi put her hand on Hinata’s shoulder and leaned into his space. “He means he unblocked you.”

“Ohhh,” said Hinata and they both broke into a fit of giggles. 

Tsukishima shook his head and grabbed his drink when the bartender slid it over. It was tall and a suspicious deep red, but when he took a sip, he found it was sweet and had none of the bitter aftertaste he associated with alcohol, so he went right back in for a longer, deeper pull. It wasn’t long before that drink was empty and Hinata was ordering another for him. 

The two of them talked and drank for a while, Yachi talking about her grad school classes and Hinata giving the rundown for Kageyama’s pro-volleyball schedule. Despite himself, Tsukishima found himself pulled into their easy, chattery rhythm. 

“How’s work, Kei-kun?” Yachi asked, leaning far forward in her seat so Tsukishima could see her better. She was holding her glass with both of her tiny hands. It was ridiculous, she was so small.

“The same,” Tsukishima said before staring down into his glass, already empty again. Whatever Hinata had ordered for him was good — dangerous. The familiar heat of alcohol was already spreading out from his stomach, warming his arms and legs. At this rate, Yamaguchi was going to walk in on three falling-over drunks. 

“Ooh!” Hinata exclaimed, startling Tsukishima and making his head jerk up. “You went at least five minutes without mentioning Yamaguchi. A new record!”

Tsukishima’s face was suddenly warm, too. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Shut up.”

But Hinata wasn’t listening. Instead, he was earnestly telling Yachi, “I’m glad they’re roommates now. Tsukki’s been in love with Yamaguchi for years, maybe he’ll do something about it now.”

“Hinata,” Tsukishima said sharply. 

Yachi’s face took on a soft expression, softer than her usual one, and Tsukishima frowned. He didn’t want her pity. He also didn’t expect her to say, “Um, I already kind of thought so? For a long time. But!” she said, suddenly looking panicked. “I won’t say anything! And I don’t think Tadashi-kun suspects! If you were worried about that, I mean.”

“He should suspect,” Hinata said darkly, flagging down the bartender again. He clapped Tsukishima on the shoulder. “Next round’s on me!”

Tsukishima ran his tongue over his teeth, suddenly jittery all over, and when the bartender brought over the third glass of tall, red, and suspiciously sweet, he downed it like a man escaping the desert. 

“Tsukki!”

Tsukishima turned on his barstool, a little mistake that made the world spin. When it steadied again, Yamaguchi was in front of him and Tsukishima couldn’t help the dopey grin that spread across his face. “Tadashi,” he slurred, and Yamaguchi’s eyes went wide. Aw. He had such nice eyes. “You’re here.”

On the bar, Tsukishima’s phone lit up with a message. _Go for it!_ it read and one seat over, Hinata was furiously tapping on his phone. Tsukishima still had the wherewithal to glare at him — he always did — and put his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. 

Yamaguchi walked over to Yachi to scoop her up into a hug, and Tsukishima noticed how cute they looked together, her little blonde head barely making it up to Yamaguchi’s chest. That might be all right, Tsukishima thought. If he lost Yamaguchi to Yachi, at least then it would be to someone nice. Yamaguchi deserved nice. 

“You’re doing it again,” Hinata said in a loud whisper, leaning into Tsukishima’s space. 

Tsukishima blinked, slowly, and propped his elbow up on the bar. “Doing what?” 

“Talking,” said Hinata. “With your mouth. Inside thoughts are for inside your head!” Now it was Hinata’s turn to shush him, which Tsukishima found hilarious. They were both laughing when Yamaguchi came back to sit on Tsukishima’s other side. 

“Don’t you want to sit by Yacchan?” Tsukishima said, turning again so he was facing Yamaguchi fully. His knees bumped against Yamaguchi’s thigh. 

“No,” said Yamaguchi. “Wait, did you just call her Yacchan?”

Instead of answering, Tsukishima reached out and put his hand on Yamaguchi’s cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth. There was a little bit of stubble along Yamaguchi’s jaw, nothing much, just enough that it probably would burn if it rubbed up against Tsukishima’s skin for too long. Yamaguchi didn’t move away from the touch; instead, he seemed frozen, staring at Tsukishima as if afraid to blink. But then he moved, a little, pushing his face against Tsukishima’s hand as he finally closed his eyes. 

Tsukishima’s phone vibrated on the bar again, making them both jump and Tsukishima drop his hand. _You know you want to._

Yamaguchi peered over and read the screen. “Who’s that?”

Tsukishima looked at over his shoulder and then back where the contact name read _Loud Idiot_. “A loud idiot,” he said. Hinata squawked indignantly behind him. 

Yamaguchi shook his head. “Let’s get you some water,” he said, getting the bartender’s attention again. 

Tsukishima stared for a moment, admiring the way Yamaguchi’s muscles stood out from his shirt with his arm outstretched. He had a nice wrist, too, and a pretty hand attached to it. 

“How many freckles do you have on the back of your hand anyway?” he asked. 

Yamaguchi, startled, looked over and he stuttered and stammered when getting Tsukishima’s water and his own drink. “W— what, Tsukki?”

“Hmm,” said Tsukishima, struggling to remember. “Oh. How did things with your mom go?”

Yamaguchi looked down. “Oh. I didn’t think you said — ah, they’re fine. I told her to stop matchmaking. It’s —” He looked up again, into Tsukishima's face. “It’s not what I’m looking for right now.”

Tsukishima wanted to ask _why not?_ but the words got stuck in his throat and he could do nothing but gulp down the water the bartender brought. The water made him a little more aware of his surroundings, like how crowded and hot the bar had gotten and how he’d had a lot to drink. His phone started buzzing with more text messages, but he rolled his eyes as he hopped off the stool.

“Bathroom,” he said and tottered off toward the restrooms, vaguely understanding that some sort of scuffle was happening behind him. He thought he heard Hinata shouting, “No!” but Hinata shouted all sorts of things all of the time and Tsukishima had years of practice tuning him out.

When he got back a few minutes later, Hinata had his head hung like a dog who’d been scolded and Yachi was rubbing his back soothingly. Yamaguchi’s head drooped, too, but he didn’t look like he was put into time-out the way Hinata did. Instead, he looked shocked and shaky; he held Tsukishima’s phone in his hands and was looking down at the lit-up screen. He lifted his head and his eyes went wide when he spotted Tsukishima.

“Tsukki, sorry,” Yamaguchi said, leaping up and shoving his phone into his hands. “I didn’t mean to see, I shouldn’t have looked —”

“It’s all my fault!” Hinata wailed. “Tsukishima, I’m so sorry, please don’t kill me. Or block me again!”

Tsukishima, his hands trembling more than he’d have liked, lifted his phone and read his missed messages:

_Kiss him._

_Kiss him right here in the bar!! (＾▽＾)_

_tsukki and yama sittin in a tree K I S KIS KISIN i forget how to spell it in english but that_

_tsukishima you dummy you’re in love with him just tell him!!!!!! (`⌒*)O-(`⌒´Q)_

Tsukishima quietly put his phone back down on the bar. His heart beat fast, the drum in a funeral dirge keeping time to the end of his life as he knew it.

“S — sorry, Tsukki. Sorry. I’m so sorry,” Yamaguchi said, panicked and horrified and stunned as he stuttered out his apologies. Tsukishima, suddenly at least twice as sober as before, understood everything by the look on Yamaguchi’s face and it was okay. It was okay, it was _fine_ , he thought as dizziness rushed through his system so fast that he nearly fell to his knees. Yamaguchi knew now and it was out in the open and it was all what Tsukishima had assumed.

Tsukishima always expected the worst because then when the worst finally happened, it didn’t hurt as much. But damn, did this ever hurt anyway.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice filled with the feelings he could no longer suppress. He laughed harshly. “Well. Now you know everything.”

He turned around calmly to push through the crowd and walked the hell out of there, ignoring the voices calling his name.

*

The cold air outside slapped him across the face, stealing the rest of his breath from him. He doubled over and panted, trying to get back some of his bearings. 

“Hey, man, are you okay?” asked a man smoking a cigarette outside. 

“No,” Tsukishima answered and broke into a run. That was funny in and of itself; he never ran if someone wasn’t making him and he never pushed himself when he did. But here he was in the dead of night, running so hard that his legs ached and his lungs felt close to bursting. The three drinks he’d had in quick succession churned dangerously in his stomach, and it was only through the miracle of muscle memory that led him into the direction of his train station. Maybe funny wasn’t the right word for it. 

He didn’t know what else to do. In all the time that Tsukishima had been in love with Yamaguchi, he’d never planned on Yamaguchi finding out. Which was stupid of him. So, so stupid. Tsukishima was someone who had contingency plans for everything, but when it came to his biggest secret, his security plan had essentially been don’t discourage Hinata and hope for the best. Stupid, he thought again, as a pang stabbed at his chest. 

Tsukishima ran up the station steps and sucked in great big gulps of air as he collapsed on a bench. It was late enough that the station was mostly empty, everyone having gotten where they were going already, leaving Tsukishima stranded alone. He felt shaky all over, his breathing hard and hard-to-control, probably not just because of his impromptu run. 

Tsukishima tilted his head back and had a short, hysterical laugh at the night sky. The lights of the station made it too bright to see the stars, the moon new in the sky. He just blew up his whole life and he was so screwed in the only way he knew — the bad way. And, he realized, swearing as he pat himself down, that he left his phone at the bar. 

Well, maybe that was a good thing. That was what got him into trouble in the first place, wasn’t it? Good riddance to bad rubbish. 

Tsukishima was still staring up when he heard footsteps climbing the stairs behind him, but he ignored them, figuring he was allowed to wallow in his misery for a time without acknowledging strangers. Tomorrow, he’d wake up and be an adult. He’d figure out a way to not seem miserable as Yamaguchi finally, tactfully extricated himself from his life. 

A shadow loomed over him, and Tsukishima only had a second to comprehend it before something was tossed into his lap. He looked down to see his phone and up to see Yamaguchi and the wretched stomach freefall he’d felt before was back, full force. 

“No,” Tsukishima said before Yamaguchi could say anything, his voice — to his horror — wavering as he couldn’t quite make himself meet Yamaguchi’s eyes. “I’ll do it tomorrow, but I can’t apologize for it right now, so please don’t make me —”

Suddenly Yamaguchi’s hands were on either side of his face, tilting up his chin, and before Tsukishima had time to react, Yamaguchi’s lips were on his, warm and insistent. It took a minute for Tsukishima to even comprehend what was going on, disbelief and liquor-slow reaction time working in equal measure, but when he realized Yamaguchi was kissing him — really kissing him on the dim, empty platform, not a dream, not yet another unfulfilled wish that Tsukishima’s heart had made — his hand fluttered up tentatively and grasped Yamaguchi’s wrist as his eyes fell shut under the onslaught of feeling. 

The kiss went on forever or for a minute, Tsukishima pliant as Yamaguchi’s mouth opened up to him and he pushed forward, pinning Tsukishima to the back of the bench. When they finally broke apart for air, still close together, the rise and fall of their chests quick but in tandem, Tsukishima opened his eyes again and finally took in Yamaguchi’s face. He had to swallow at the intensity there, the look there familiar, the same one he wore years ago when Yamaguchi broke down and finally shook Tsukishima out of his slump. The circumstances here were so, so different, except for how they weren’t. 

“Well. Now you know everything,” said Yamaguchi, echoing Tsukishima’s earlier statement as he let his hands slip from Tsukishima’s face. He took a deep, shaky breath and collapsed onto the bench, linking their hands together. “I’m sorry I had to be so dramatic there. If you’d given me a chance to explain back at the bar, I wouldn’t have gone with the big gesture.”

A little puff of air, almost a laugh, pushed past Tsukishima’s lips. “I guess we’re both a little dramatic.”

“And bad at feelings,” added Yamaguchi. “Let’s not forget about that.”

Yamaguchi’s hand was warm, a little rough, and fit perfectly in his. Tsukishima couldn’t help his reflexive squeeze, one that Yamaguchi immediately followed. 

“How long?” Tsukishima asked, turning his head to watch Yamaguchi’s profile. He didn’t get to look for much time, though, as Yamaguchi turned to look at _him_ and they both got lost for a moment. 

“Long,” Yamaguchi eventually said, his voice rough. He laughed, a little regretfully. “Too long to admit. You?”

“Long enough,” Tsukishima said. He felt so stupid — but underneath that was something else, something giddy and elated and _hopeful_. Then, haltingly, he added, “Five years.”

“Oh. Not as long as me then,” Yamaguchi said. Tsukishima’s eyes went wide. “I tried getting over you; it never took. But does it matter?”

It didn’t. Nothing else mattered now, not how much time had passed or how part of Tsukishima was still reeling from the night and the kiss. Hinata’s stupid big mouth didn’t matter, either, and maybe in this one case wasn’t so stupid after all. 

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t go that far. 

“I suppose we should have guessed when we were both so ready to move in together,” Tsukishima said eventually. 

Yamaguchi laughed. “You’re so smart, Tsukki.”

The train approached then, bright lights cutting through the darkness and illuminating everything Tsukishima could see. Yamaguchi stood first, pulling Tsukishima up and walking ahead of him. Just like always, he gave Tsukishima a chance to catch up, their hands still tightly clasped together. 

“Come on, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said, right into Tsukishima’s ear as the train pulled into the station and slowed to a stop. “Let’s go home.”

The doors opened and they got on, together.

**Author's Note:**

> The story they reference is a real folktale and you can read a translation [here](https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/pdf/passage/4834/japanese-fairy-tales-002-the-bamboo-cutter-and-the-moon-child.pdf), if you're so inclined.
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. If you'd like, follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/nonnonnegative) or just subscribe to my fic here!


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